


What's Wrong With Sideswipe?

by fuzipenguin



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Depression, Discussion of Abortion, Fluff and Angst, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mechpreg, Minor Violence, Other, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 23:20:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13623618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: Sideswipe has been acting off and Sunstreaker is determined to find out why. The answer brings even more questions, however.





	What's Wrong With Sideswipe?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dracoqueen22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/gifts).



> I have purposively left some warnings off this fic in order to retain the integrity of the ending. Please see the end of the fic for further explanation, however I don't feel like the tags I'm leaving out would majorly trigger anyone.
> 
>  
> 
> The first quarter of this was originally published on tumblr in 2-3 separate posts. If anyone who submitted guesses as to what was wrong with Sideswipe is curious... I have *always* pictured this ending. 
> 
> Dedicated to dracoqueen22 - Happy Birthday!

            “Nngh,” Sideswipe says, irritably pulling away. “Not really in the mood.”

            Sunstreaker jerks back, his hand falling away from Sideswipe’s thigh. “I’m sorry, what did you just say? You’re not… ‘in the mood’? When have you ever not been ready to jump my struts?!”

            Sideswipe turns his head to stare at Sunstreaker, looking incredibly Not Impressed. “Wow. Think a lot of yourself, don’t you?” 

            Sunstreaker sputters a bit because... well,  _yeah_. But that isn’t the point! “I cannot  _ever_ , since the moment we got our upgrades, remember a moment when I asked you to interface and you said no,” Sunstreaker retorts. 

            Sideswipe turns back to his data pad, sniffing haughtily. “Well, there’s a first time for everything. ‘Sides, not like you asked. You just grabbed me,  _assuming_.” 

            Sunstreaker pushes himself to his feet, arms waving about helplessly. “Because I normally have to beat you off me with a stick!!”

            “Still could have asked,” Sideswipe mutters, swiping at his screen with the tip of his index finger. 

            Sunstreaker grits his denta. His brother is acting weirder than normal. Has been, for the past week or so. Alternatively clingy and standoffish, and it’s driving Sunstreaker a little mad. 

            “Fine,” Sunstreaker growls. “Sideswipe - would you like to interface with me?”

            Sideswipe purses his lips and looks up. “No. I’m really  _not_  in the mood. Can we watch a movie or something instead?” 

            “’A movie’,” Sunstreaker repeats incredulously. Sideswipe giving up a frag for a movie?! Surely the world is ending.  Maybe Sideswipe needs to be dragged down to MedBay for a quick scan from Ratchet.

            Except later, because while Sunstreaker is a little concerned, he’s also a lot more irritated than anything.

            “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Sunstreaker says with a shake of his head. He turns and starts walking to the door. “Never mind then. I’ll burn off some energy down in the training ring.” 

            “NO!” Sideswipe shouts. Sunstreaker whirls around in surprise, seeing Sideswipe standing, hand outstretched beseechingly towards Sunstreaker. “Sunny, please...” Sideswipe says, voice going soft. “Please stay here with me?” 

            His optics are wide and bright and Primus-damnit, Sunstreaker could never resist that look. This wasn’t the contrived begging look. This was the expression that formed only when something was really bothering Sideswipe, and he wanted to climb into Sunstreaker’s lap and hide there. 

             Sunstreaker sighs and ruthlessly squashes down the lust stirring in his lines. He had thought Sideswipe sucking on the tip of his stylus while lying half sprawled at the end of the couch was an invitation, but apparently not.

             Maybe Sideswipe wasn’t the only one with interfacing constantly on his processor.

             “Is something bothering you?” Sunstreaker asks, forcing himself to gentle his tone. It’s not Sideswipe’s fault that Sunstreaker had interpreted his twin’s body language incorrectly. 

             Sideswipe’s hand drops at the same time as his gaze, and he fidgets slightly. “… no. I just want to spend time with you. But I don’t want to interface. ‘m sorry.”

             “Don’t apologize. It’s fine,” Sunstreaker says softly, walking back and sitting in his original spot on the couch. Sideswipe immediately plasters himself to Sunstreaker’s side, optics still downcast. 

             “Thanks,” Sideswipe murmurs quietly as he settles. 

             “Yeah, whatever,” Sunstreaker replies, reaching for the remote. He’s uneasy though. That initial irritation has faded back into worry. Something is _not right_ , and Sunstreaker is determined to find out what it is. 

 

\--

 

            “Something’s wrong with Sideswipe,” Sunstreaker announces the next day, walking into Ratchet’s office unannounced.

            Ratchet is sitting at his desk, head bent over a data pad. At the sound of Sunstreaker’s voice, Ratchet shoots to his feet, his chair screeching as its shoved back across the floor. He stares at Sunstreaker with wide optics, several of Ratchet’s battle systems whirling to life.

            “Woah,” Sunstreaker comments, freezing in place and bringing his hands up to show Ratchet they’re empty. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Guess you were pretty absorbed in your reading… good book?” he asks, tilting his head in the direction of Ratchet’s datapad.

            Ratchet blinks several times and finally shakes his head. “Patient files, that’s all.” He reaches over and thumbs the screen off, shoulders dropping out of their tense hold. Yet Sunstreaker senses that Ratchet is still on a hair trigger.

             Poor guy really needs to take care of himself better. It might be time for Sunstreaker and Sideswipe to start making energon runs for Ratchet again. And lacing the fuel with some sedatives they had squirreled away for that very purpose.

            “What were you saying about Sideswipe? You think there’s something wrong with him?” Ratchet asks, gesturing for Sunstreaker to take a seat.

            “He’s being weird,” Sunstreaker complains, gracefully dropping down into one of the two chairs in front of Ratchet’s desk. He watches as Ratchet picks up several of the datapads littering the surface of his desk and replaces them on the shelves behind him. “He doesn’t want to ‘face.”

            Ratchet looks over his shoulder with a raised orbital ridge. “And that’s weird?”

            Sunstreaker snorts. “For him, yeah. We normally don’t go more than a day, but it’s been over a week now. Ever since… well, more than a week anyway. He won’t give me a reason other than he’s ‘not in the mood’, and I can’t think of anything that could have happened to turn him off fragging.”

            Ratchet turns around and places his hands on the seat back of his chair, peering intently at Sunstreaker. “Are you’re absolutely sure there’s nothing that could have set him off?”

            Sunstreaker’s spark gives a twisted sort of whirl, and he absently raises a hand to rub over the center of his chestplate. He searches his memory banks of the previous week. The events during that time frame sort of run together. Battle, battle, repairs, trip to the coast for an art show… another battle with more repairs. The usual. “No… I… No, not that I remember.”

            “Hmm.”

            Ratchet continues to stare and Sunstreaker fidgets in his seat, a little unnerved. That last battle is a little hazy, but he attributes that to getting knocked out halfway through it. He had woken up in MedBay shortly after, and been released by Ratchet himself with a clean bill of health. But maybe Sunstreaker had said or done something to Sideswipe that Sunstreaker had forgotten from the blow to the back of the head.

            … was there anything bad enough Sunstreaker could do to make Sideswipe not want to ‘face? He certainly still cuddled and clung, almost as if…

            Sunstreaker abruptly sits upright, making Ratchet rear back in response. “Did something happen to him when I got knocked out in that last fight? Did someone hurt him and he just isn’t telling me about it?” Sunstreaker demands, his engine growling at the thought.

            Ratchet lifts his hands in a calming manner. “No, Sunny. Sideswipe didn’t report any injuries.” 

            “Yeah, _report_ ,” Sunstreaker says with a huff. “If I drag him down here, will you scan him for me?”

            That idiot. If his twin had gotten hurt… if someone had laid even a _finger_ on him…

            Ratchet hesitates and then nods. “Sure. Sure, Sunny. And are _you_ ok? Is anything bothering you?”

            The medic’s gaze drops, and Sunstreaker realizes he’s still rubbing his chestplate. He whips his hand away with a frown. He isn’t hurt. His chest feels a little funny, but wouldn’t anyone’s if their bondmate was being weird?

            “Yeah, I’m fine,” Sunstreaker says gruffly, pushing himself to his feet. “I’ll bring Sides down in a bit.”

            He strides out of the office, unease making his lines run chill. Ratchet’s optics had flickered there at the end with something like worry.  

            But no, nothing rattled Ratchet. It was just Sunstreaker’s imagination. He was just weirded out by his stupid twin and jumping to conclusions. Sideswipe would get a scan and everything would be fine.

           

\--

 

            Sunstreaker glares at the door to the isolation room in which Sideswipe and Ratchet are entombed. Sideswipe had only agreed to come down to MedBay if Sunstreaker stayed in the waiting area. Which was ridiculous, but at least it got Sideswipe to step foot into Ratchet’s realm.

            Once there, Sunstreaker had blithely followed Sideswipe and Ratchet to an exam room, still thinking Sideswipe hadn’t been serious. Before entering, Sideswipe had asked Ratchet if Sunstreaker could wait outside. Ratchet hadn’t even batted an optic, just gestured Sideswipe inside and then slammed the door in Sunstreaker’s face while he was sputtering out a protest.

            Ratchet took patient confidentiality very seriously, which normally wouldn’t have been a problem as the twins kept no secrets from each other.

            Or so Sunstreaker had always thought.

            Now Sunstreaker paces restlessly in the small hallway outside the room, hands curling in and out of fists. He’s angry that Sideswipe is keeping something from him, but more than that, Sunstreaker is scared. Scared that Sideswipe is dying or otherwise about to leave him.

            Thoughts of Sideswipe wasting away on a medical berth swirl inside Sunstreaker’s processor, picking up speed. Engine revving unhappily, Sunstreaker paces faster, his spark pounding inside its casing. Moments later, he hears a soft exclamation behind the closed door and Sunstreaker abruptly hits his limit.

            He shoves the door open and strides inside, quickly taking in the sight of Sideswipe sitting on the medical berth, hand pressed against his chest. Ratchet is frozen at his side, scanner held up in mid-air.

            “Sunstreaker!” Ratchet barks. “You brother explicitly asked you to stay outside!”

            “I don’t care!” Sunstreaker growls, advancing a step. Through the haze of his anger, he notes Ratchet backing away, shoulders tense. “There is something going on here, and I want to know what it is!”

            Seeming to gather himself up, Ratchet moves forwards, gesturing towards the door. “You’ll know when Sideswipe wants you to know and not a second sooner. Out!”

            “Tell me!” Sunstreaker demands. “Is he sick? Is he dying? Is he…”

            “Sparked.”

            Sunstreaker’s head whips around, and he stares at his twin in astonishment. “… what!?”

            “I’m sparked, Sunny,” Sideswipe replies, shoulders sagging a bit.

            “Sideswipe!” Ratchet exclaims, reaching out a hand to place on Sideswipe’s knee. “What are you…?”

            “It’s his spark too,” Sideswipe explains, glancing at the medic with an odd expression. “He deserves to know.”

            Ratchet and Sideswipe stare at one another for the span of a sparkbeat, and then Ratchet shakes his head a little, looking discomforted. “Alright… I guess.”

            Nodding, Sideswipe looks back at Sunstreaker and shrugs. “So that’s the big secret. Didn’t really know for certain at first. But Ratch confirmed it last week.”

            “But… how? I thought…?” Sunstreaker trails off, the rise of anger slowing ebbing away into shock.

            “…that as twins we shouldn’t be able to kindle a newspark? Yeah, well… I have. And it’s hardy. Little bugger keeps drawing on my spark more and more as it grows. I’m surprised you haven’t been able to feel it. I keep instinctively leaning on our bond,” Sideswipe explains.

            Sunstreaker absently brings a hand up to his hood, directly over his spark. All those times his chest had felt tight… “Is it… is it mine?” he asks hesitantly.

            Sideswipe rolls his optics. “Of course it’s yours! Not like I’m merging with anyone else around here.”

            Sunstreaker stares at Sideswipe’s chest, trying to peer through the many protective layers hiding his brother’s spark. A new life rests there, snugged up tight against Sideswipe’s core. Shuffling forward, Sunstreaker slowly reaches out until his palm lies flat against Sideswipe’s hood.

            “We made a sparkling,” Sunstreaker says faintly, still in shock.

            Sideswipe looks up at him with a pained twist to his lips. “Yeah, Sunny, we did.”

            His brother loved sparklings. Why was his brother just sitting there instead of jumping up and smiling?

            “You’re not happy,” Sunstreaker stats flatly, jerking his hand back. There’s more to this than an unprecedented sparking between twins; something else is going on.

            “It’s killing him,” Ratchet announces, blunt as ever.

            Sunstreaker looks at his twin in horror. Sideswipe’s head ducks, and he frowns sadly.

            “I just kept hoping it would fade away on its own,” Sideswipe murmurs. “I didn’t want to hurt you with this.”

            “You idiot!” Sunstreaker bursts out. He steps forward and enfolds Sideswipe into an embrace, hugging him tightly. “We do everything together. Even this. We’ll figure it out, ok?”

            Sideswipe lets out a quiet sob and buries his face in Sunstreaker’s plating. Throwing his arms around Sunstreaker’s waist, Sideswipe clings to him desperately. As Sideswipe makes quiet little clicks of distress, Sunstreaker looks over at Ratchet to see him chewing on his lower lip.

            “We can do something, right?” Sunstreaker asks, voice small. Ratchet always managed to create miracles out of thin air. Surely this wouldn’t be any different.

            Ratchet’s head jerks up and he gazes at Sunstreaker for a long moment before nodding once sharply. 

            “We’re working on it.”

 

\--

 

            Sunstreaker onlines feeling distinctly odd. His frame aches, and his audials note a gentle beeping which isn’t congruent with their room. Booting up his optics, he looks around to see himself laid out on a portable cot in one of the recovery rooms of the MedBay. To his dismay, Sideswipe is lying very still on the room’s actual berth.

            “Sideswipe!” Sunstreaker exclaims, shooting upwards. He winces as a sharp pain bursts across the back of his helm, but he ignores it to jump to his twin’s side.

            Sideswipe’s optic shutters flutter and then they part, his gaze focusing in on Sunstreaker.

            “What happened?” Sunstreaker demands, hands hovering over his twin’s form. Sideswipe is sporting several new dents and scrapes that Sunstreaker doesn’t remember him having before.

            “It’s ok,” Sideswipe says wearily. He reaches out and encircles Sunstreaker’s closest wrist with weak fingers. “I’m ok.”

            “The sparkling?” Sunstreaker asks, gaze zeroing in on his twin’s chest.

            Sideswipe blinks and then follows Sunstreaker’s stare. “Oh. Yeah. It’s fine. Still kicking.”

            “What happened?” Sunstreaker asks again, laying a hand on Sideswipe’s hood. To his surprise, Sideswipe flinches and his grip on Sunstreaker’s arm tightens.

            “I’m a little sore,” Sideswipe replies in explanation, gently pushing both of Sunstreaker’s hands away so he can carefully sit up. “I guess I had a… seizure? That was the closest thing Ratchet could compare it to. Apparently my system is still getting used to this additional programming that comes with the sparkling.”

            Sideswipe’s optics track down Sunstreaker’s upper body and he smiles ruefully. “Sorry about bringing you along with me. You didn’t have a seizure, but you still fell offline.”

            Sunstreaker has never seen his twin look so tired and… defeated. It’s frightening. The hallmark of Sideswipe’s personality is his optimism and endless energy.

            “Maybe… maybe we should… abort the sparkling?” Sunstreaker hesitantly ventures. “It’s still early along, right? So it’s not like there’s much of it to feel anything?”

            Sideswipe bites his lower lip and shakes his head. “I asked Ratchet about that. He said… he said it’s not possible right now.”

            “Well… when _will_ it be possible?” Sunstreaker asks, frustrated. “Where is Ratchet anyway?”

            He takes a step backwards, and Sideswipe’s hand shoots out, grabbing Sunstreaker’s closest arm. “I don’t know if it ever will be. Don’t go bothering him; he’s doing research on base coding.”

            “What? Base coding?” Sunstreaker echoes. The pain in the back of his helm throbs again and his chest twinges. He absently rubs at it, willing the ache to go away.

            “Mmm… something about the sparkling’s programming being too engrained in my base code; have to tease it apart to do an abortion… blah blah… mumbo jumbo… you know how those science types get,” Sideswipe says, attempting a smile. “Hey, they said you fell pretty hard. How are _you_ feeling?”

            “Must have hit my head,” Sunstreaker replies, rotating his neck. “I’m kinda sore there. But otherwise ok.”

            Sideswipe sighs in relief. “I’m glad. So, Ratchet said we should rest as much as possible. Think you could recharge again?”

            “I’m pretty awake now, actually,” Sunstreaker says. Blacking out and then waking up to your bonded lying frighteningly still on a medical berth will do that to you. “But you could go back to sleep.”

            “Mm, now that you mention it, the fog is starting to clear for me too. Wanna snuggle and you could read to me instead?” Sideswipe suggests hopefully.

            Sunstreaker makes a face. “Ugh, not that ridiculous romance novel again!”

            Despite the complaint, Sunstreaker is already climbing atop the berth. Sideswipe scoots forward enough to enable Sunstreaker to sit and prop himself up against the wall. Sideswipe then lays back down, curling up on his side so that his head rests on Sunstreaker’s chest. He fumbles in his subspace a moment before pulling out a data pad and handing it over to Sunstreaker.

            “Yup! I think I fell asleep during the last chapter, so you can start it over,” Sideswipe informs him, voice shaking with suppressed laughter.

            “You’re lucky I love you,” Sunstreaker grumbles, flicking the data pad on and finding the chapter in question. “This is utter and complete drivel. And human drivel at that.”

            Which Sideswipe had been asking Sunstreaker to read aloud to him for the past several days. At least they’re nearing the end. But if Sunstreaker reads one more scene in which the damsel stares longingly into her rescuer’s eyes…

            Sideswipe squirms a bit, stretching up so he can lightly kiss Sunstreaker’s cheek. “I _am_ lucky. No matter what happens… I love you too, ok?”

            Primus. Sunstreaker just can’t handle that sad slant to Sideswipe’s optics. So he kisses the top of his twin’s helm, cuddles him close, and starts reading.

 

\--

 

            Sunstreaker continues to lose time due to the blackouts. Sideswipe has three additional seizures, and he weakens a little more with each one. The entire medical team and anyone with any coding experience has their heads buried together in Ratchet’s office at all hours of the day. Fortunately, the ‘cons had been trounced so thoroughly in the last battle that things are calm on that front.

            Sideswipe and Sunstreaker essentially move into the Medical Bay and make the recovery room their new home. They can’t go too far because the seizures are unpredictable and take out both of them at once. Sunstreaker never even sees them happen; Ratchet suspects that Sideswipe’s body just draws continually on Sunstreaker’s spark until it can’t support Sideswipe’s any longer and then Sunstreaker abruptly offlines. The sudden drop in support sends Sideswipe into the seizure.

            Sunstreaker hates the situation with every fiber of his being. Sideswipe and he quickly come to the agreement that aborting the sparking, no matter how much they want it, is their only option. Now the team of nerds just need to find a way to do it without killing Sideswipe, and consequentially Sunstreaker, in the process.

            So… a waiting game. Sunstreaker is not a fan of waiting, but he hides his impatience for Sideswipe’s sake.

            “Just recharge,” Sunstreaker says quietly, gently squeezing Sideswipe around the waist from behind. “I can tell you’re tired.”

            A blind mech could tell. Sideswipe can’t take more than a few steps before needing to stop and vent heavily. He sways when he stands, and Sunstreaker is never far from his twin’s side now, to ensure Sideswipe doesn’t fall.  

            Sideswipe shakes his head. “I don’t want to sleep. What if I die in my sleep? No, I want to spend as much time as I can with you.”

            He turns within the circle of Sunstreaker’s arms and presses his lips against Sunstreaker’s in a gentle kiss. Sunstreaker’s spark writhes unhappily in his chest but this time it’s not from anything to do with their bond.

             Sparklings are supposed to be a happy occasion. Why can’t anything ever go their way?!

            “You’re not going to die,” Sunstreaker repeats, for probably the fourth time today. Depression is an ugly look for Sideswipe, and Sunstreaker doesn’t really know how to combat it besides giving constant reassurance.

            Sideswipe opens his mouth to reply, but before he can say anything, the door opens. Ratchet walks in, looking almost as tired as Sideswipe.

            “Hello, boys. Hanging in there?” Ratchet asks, shutting the door behind him.

            Sideswipe shrugs and breaks away from Sunstreaker to sit down on the berth. “What news do you got for us, doc?”

            Ratchet purses his lips. “Well, we’ve examined the code from every angle and we think it best we go for a multi-modal approach. Even this early, the sparkling will be big enough that I can physically remove from your spark. We sedate you both, Jazz jacks into Sideswipe and while he’s deleting the sparkling’s code from yours, I’ll be aborting the sparkling.”

            “You think the code can be removed safely?” Sunstreaker presses. That had been everyone’s biggest worry. The sparkling’s code was acting essentially like a parasite. And any meddling with it made the sparkling’s programming integrate itself even more fully with Sideswipe’s.

            “We’ve stared at it long enough. There’s a risk, a big one. But at the rate things are going, you two aren’t going to last much longer,” Ratchet says, sighing. He rubs the bridge of his nasal ridge wearily.

            Sunstreaker looks to Sideswipe, but his brother is already nodding. “Sign me up. I trust you guys and you’re right; we’re not gonna last long like this. When do we start?”

 

\--

 

            Sunstreaker opens his optics and looks around, confused. He slowly sits up, peering at his empty, dark surroundings. He’s laying squarely within a circle of light that’s coming from overhead, but when he looks up, he can’t see the source. And outside of the sixty foot diameter, there is just blackness. Complete and absolute blackness.

            It’s neither cold nor warm. There is no smell and while his feet detect firmness beneath them, he can’t identify what the floor is made of.

            And he’s alone.

            Except… he realizes suddenly that that isn’t true.

            He whirls around and stumbles out of his offensive stance when he realizes Sideswipe is standing behind him, an arm’s length away.

            “What… you weren’t there just a second ago,” Sunstreaker comments warily, although he’s glad to see his twin. “Where are we?”

            “Inside my head,” Sideswipe replies. He crosses his arms over his chest and cocks his hip out to the side. Normally a pose of insolence, but Sunstreaker gets the feeling that Sideswipe is using it as a mask to cover unease.

            Sunstreaker blinks and then looks around. “Well… it’s pretty much as empty as I always thought it was.”

            He thinks it’s hilarious, but Sideswipe doesn’t even crack a smile. Alarm bells go off inside Sunstreaker’s head.

            “…Sideswipe? Where are we really?” Sunstreaker ventures hesitantly.  

            Sideswipe purses his lips and takes a step closer, tilting his head to the side in inquiry. “Do you trust me?”

            “… yes?” Sunstreaker replies, because of course he trusts Sideswipe, but he’s awfully confused by this quiet, serious version of his twin. And the last Sunstreaker remembers is staring up at the ceiling of the MedicalBay as it faded away under the influence of some really nice drugs.

            And finally Sideswipe smiles, even if it’s just a small jerk of his lips. “Good answer, actually.”

            Sunstreaker takes a step as well, closing the distance between them. “What’s going on, Sides? Does this… is this about the sparkling?”

            “… kinda,” Sideswipe says, biting his lip and looking off to the side.

            “Are we really in your head? How in the Pit did we manage that?” Sunstreaker asks.

            He reaches out a hand and cups the side of Sideswipe’s face because his brother looks as if he could benefit from a reassuring touch. Proving Sunstreaker right, Sideswipe briefly closes his optics and leans into Sunstreaker’s palm. Sideswipe reaches up and he holds Sunstreaker’s hand in place so that he can tilt his head and kiss the inner bend of Sunstreaker’s wrist.

            “Through a lot of drugs and a spark merge,” Sideswipe explains, straightening up and moving away from Sunstreaker’s hand. He reaches out and gently takes hold of Sunstreaker’s hips, staring at Sunstreaker intently. “Would you be very upset with me if I told you there never was a sparkling?”

            Sunstreaker furrows his forehelm in befuddlement. “What? What are you talking about?”

            Before Sideswipe can answer, Sunstreaker hears a chilling howl behind him, and he instinctively whirls around and places himself in front of his twin. “What in the Pit was that?”

            Sideswipe steps up next to him and they both stare off in the darkness. “Nothing good,” Sideswipe whispers. A moment later, there is a second howl, one farther off to the right.  

            “I really don’t understand what’s going on, Sides,” Sunstreaker complains. And he’d love to have a straight answer. Sideswipe doesn’t play these evasive games with Sunstreaker. Others maybe, but not Sunstreaker.

            “I’d love to explain it to you… well… actually, no I wouldn’t. We don’t have the time anyway, it’s starting,” Sideswipe replies.

            Sunstreaker angrily throws his hands up in the air and turns to glare at Sideswipe. “What’s starting?!”

            Sideswipe doesn’t meet his optics. Instead, he continues to stare off in the direction the howls came from. He slowly raises his arm, pointing.

            “That.”

            Sunstreaker looks to where Sideswipe is indicating and startles. Bit by bit, the darkness is being lit up by pairs of optics that glow a sickly green. The lights move closer, and Sunstreaker can just make out the owners of the optics: turbowolves. They’re huge; they stand tall enough that their heads would probably be level with Sunstreake’s headlights.

            Not that he wants to be close enough to confirm that.

            The beasts are … wrong… somehow. Several pieces of their plating are missing and in those areas where Sunstreaker can see the underlying structures, something black and viscous oozes out and dribbles down the surrounding armor.

            “Holy Pit,” Sunstreaker murmurs and Sideswipe makes an agreeable noise next to him. “Why are these things in your head, Sides?”

            “I’m not sure – I guess I’m subconsciously creating a physical manifestation of the virus?” Sideswipe ventures. “That sounds sci-fi-y enough, right?”

            At Sideswipe’s words, the turbowolves’ heads jerk up and the glow of their optics intensifies. Coincidentally, Sunstreaker’s spark pulses, a shooting pain radiating out from it.

            “Virus?” Sunstreaker gasps, automatically clutching at his chest. Sideswipe catches the movement out of the corner of his optic and frowns worriedly. His head turns back as the turbowolves start snarling and crouch as if in preparation to leap.

            “No time!” Sideswipe repeats, swinging a rifle down from his shoulder. Sunstreaker shakes his head in disbelief because he could have sworn the weapon hadn’t been there a moment ago. “Trust me – I’ll get you through this, Sunny. Just kill those things and don’t let them touch you!”

            “Kill them…?”

            But then the first of the turbowolves leap forward and Sunstreaker instinctively reaches for his blaster. Sunstreaker takes out three before they get close; two head shots and another which tears open a third’s throat. It’s not dead, but it soon will be, wickedly curved talons scrambling at the floor as it drowns in its own energon.

            Sideswipe kills another two before squawking in outrage. He whirls around and he and Sunstreaker automatically slot together, back to back, Sideswipe taking out any of the creatures which approach from behind.

            “What happens if they touch us?” Sunstreaker shouts over his shoulder. His blaster flashes a warning that it’s at half charge and all he can see off in the distance is green optics and silvery denta.

            “You die!” Sideswipe shouts back.

            Well, that’s encouraging. But there’s obviously no time to elaborate so all Sunstreaker can do is continue fighting. He absently wishes for his sonic scatter gun which is better for crowd control, and it’s suddenly hanging off his shoulder.

            Sunstreaker stares at it for a half second before grinning and switching out weapons. The first blasts gains him a good deal of space between him and his half of the horde.

            “Nice, bro!” Sideswipe comments from behind him and seconds later, Sunstreaker hears the same gun report as his own.

            So that’s how the dreamscape works. Wish for the weapon you want and you get it. He tries wishing the wolves away as well, but apparently that’s not allowed.

            Unfortunately, the beasts just keep coming. Even though he wishes for a gun that never runs out of charge, he’s not sure the two of them will be able to keep up. So he wishes for grenades and a rocket launcher, and every single long range weapon he can think of.

            It helps. Within minutes, there is a ring of lifeless bodies encircling Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. The beasts have to clamber over their dead comrades to attack, which buys a little time between each wave.

            But then Sunstreaker’s next wish for more rockets fails. Something flickers in the dark, and Sideswipe presses up against Sunstreaker’s back, gasping.

            “Sides?”

            “I’m ok, I’m ok,” Sideswipe mutters. “We just got to hold out a little bit longer. There’s not as many of them now.”

            It’s true. Their ranks have thinned, and Sunstreaker estimates roughly a dozen more off in the distance where the black shades to a dim gray.  But his blaster whines at Sunstreaker, flashing ‘no charge’ and he’s run out of grenades.

            “Weapons?” Sunstreaker asks nervously. He’s always got knives in his subspace, but he’d prefer something that gives him a little more distance between him and the wolves. Especially if he’ll die if the beasts touch him.

            Sunstreaker hears a ringing sound like a sword clearing a sheath. So he doesn’t know why he’s surprised when Sideswipe shoves a katana back at Sunsteaker. Yet Sunstreaker still manages to be startled, and he almost drops the weapon before managing to grip it.

            “Swords? _Swords,_ Sideswipe?” Sunstreaker demands, gripping the hilt and pulling the blade free. It’s gorgeous, curved just right and etched with script that looks like Old Cybertronian. Sunstreaker doesn’t get a chance to translate it; the first ‘wolf races forward and Sunstreaker swings.

            “I’m sorry, they don’t take much effort to materialize!” Sideswipe replies, sounding offended.

            Like he has the right to be. They’re both good with blades, but guns would have been far better against this many opponents.

            Sunstreaker swings repeatedly, hacking off limbs and heads, and slashing at optics. The brightness from up above dims and then starts flickering, illuminating the surrounding shadows like a strobe light.

            “Stop that!” Sunstreaker shouts, narrowly twisting out of the way of a swipe of a sharp paw. “I need the light!”

            If everything goes completely black, their chances of survival decrease severely. Behind him, Sideswipe’s engine revs, sounding strained, but the strength of the light firms, just in time for Sunstreaker to duck and gut a leaping wolf.

            There’s only three more and Sunstreaker kills them easily, one by one. After that, he turns around to see Sideswipe dispatching his last. Sunstreaker paces in a circle, optics trying to pierce the gloom.

            “Is that the last of them? Is there something else coming?” Sunstreaker asks urgently.

            “No. That’s it,” Sideswipe replies faintly. “I’m pretty sure. Oh, Primus, I hope so. Fun though, right?”

            Sunstreaker glances at his brother in disbelief and sees Sideswipe grinning at him. After a second, Sunstreaker smiles as well, because yeah, they’re covered in energon and other suspicious fluids, but they’re alive and his lines are thrumming with the satisfaction of a good fight.

            “Not really,” Sunstreaker shoots back. “I… woah, hey…”

            Sideswipe suddenly sways in place and leans on the hilt of his sword, the tip digging into the floor. His heads dips as if it’s too heavy to keep aloft.

            “Sides… are you ok?” Sunstreaker asks. He realizes that beneath the splashes of energon, Sideswipe’s normally bright crimson has faded. His brother’s engine keeps hiccupping, and he’s trembling all over. Sunstreaker takes a step forward in concern as Sideswipe looks up.

            “I’m… I’m not sure… but you’ll be,” Sideswipe rasps.

            There’s a single moment in which Sunstreaker’s spark goes suddenly, frigidly cold. Then Sideswipe’s optics flicker, dim, and go completely out. He collapses like a puppet whose strings had just been cut. The crash of Sideswipe hitting the floor rings loudly in Sunstreaker’s audials.

            Sunstreaker leaps towards his twin, hands outstretched and shouting his name.

 

\--

 

            “Sideswipe!!!”

            Sunstreaker bolts upright, his vents seizing in panic. His gaze darts around, frantically seeking his brother. He feels disorientated, the light too bright, too white, and then he realizes he’s no longer in that dark place, but rather in the familiar recovery room of the MedBay.

            To fuel his rising panic, Sideswipe isn’t here. And the normal low level sensation of his brother in the back of Sunstreaker’s spark has been severely muted. If Sunstreaker focuses, he can just barely grasp that tenuous connection.   

            He hops down off the berth and bolts from the room, pausing in the hallway. The rest of the Medical Bay is quiet, but he still sharpens his audial input on instinct, searching for the familiar tones of Sideswipe’s voice.

            Sunstreaker doesn’t hear it, so he pulls on the bond again and turns left, further into the collection of recovery rooms. He gets a sinking feeling as his search leads him closer towards the surgery suite. He and Sideswipe had both been residents of these rooms before; they contained more monitoring equipment and were close to both Ratchet’s office and surgery in case one or the other were needed.

            Stopping in front of the last door Sunstreaker stares at its surface. Had everything just been a dream? A side effect of the anesthesia? Or was he going crazy?

            Well, he wasn’t going to find answers out here.

            Sunstreaker reaches for the door and opens it, striding through as confidently as he could. Two heads immediately jerk up at his appearance, but neither are his brother’s.

            “… sir,” Sunstreaker says, inclining his head in Optimus’ direction. The Prime is seated on a chair next to the medical berth, datapad in his lap. His presence is completely unexpected and briefly throws Sunstreaker for a loop.

            Then he spies Sideswipe’s prone form, Ratchet leaning over him.

            Sunstreaker quickly takes in the scene, noting the energon drip connected to Sideswipe’s systems, and a set of electrical leads attached to his brother’s chest. He recalls seeing Sideswipe drop, lifeless and limp and Sunstreaker’s fuel pump skips a pulse.

            “Sides?” Sunstreaker calls, even though he knows his brother can’t hear him. He’s obviously offlined, maybe even induced into medical stasis.

            “Your brother’s going to be ok,” Ratchet says quietly, straightening up.

            “Implying that he’s not right now,” Sunstreaker immediately says. “What happened? Is the sparkling gone?”

            An expression of disquiet flits over Ratchet’s face, and Sunstreaker hears the echo of Sideswipe saying ‘Would you be upset with me if I told you there never was a sparkling?’

            “Oh, frag, that was real,” Sunstreaker whispers, horrified. “There wasn’t a sparkling, was there?”

            “No, Sunstreaker, there was not,” Optimus says, pushing himself to his feet. For some reason, the larger mech looming over him makes him wary, and Sunstreaker sidles closer to Sideswipe’s berthside.

            Across the berth, Sunstreaker watches Ratchet tense, just slightly, and Sunstreaker feels an icy cold sensation wash over him.

            “This wasn’t about Sideswipe. This was about me somehow. Wasn’t it?” Sunstreaker asks Ratchet quietly. “What did I do? … did I hurt you?”

            Ratchet immediately strides around the berth and towards Sunstreaker. It’s a fight not to back away because Sunstreaker now recalls that flicker of emotion on Ratchet’s face when Sunstreaker had barged into his office. Sunstreaker can’t believe he hadn’t realized that flicker had been fear.

            “No. No, Sunstreaker, you did not hurt me,” Ratchet says firmly and reaches out to take Sunstreaker’s hands in his. “I promise you, you didn’t touch me.”

            It’s only a small consolation. Sunstreaker remembers the times he had woken up to dents and scrapes covering his frame. Supposedly sustained when he had crashed from the draw on his spark, but now he wonders.

            “But I hurt someone?”

            Ratchet’s lips thin and his fingers reflexively squeeze Sunstreaker’s wrists. Optimus answers for Ratchet.

            “People were hurt. But no one died,” he says. Almost unbidden, Sunstreaker’s optics slant to the side to gaze at his brother.

            “And it wasn’t you,” Ratchet rushes to say. “You were under control of a virus.”

            Sunstreaker is silent for a long moment, staring at his twin and memorizing every nick and scrape in his paint. Sunstreaker would address all of them in great detail once Sideswipe woke up, especially since Sunstreaker suspects he was the cause.

            “Can you… can you start at the beginning?”

            Optimus backs away and Ratchet steers Sunstreaker to sit in the chair the Prime had been using. Then Ratchet drags over another chair and slides it close, so close that Sunstreaker’s knees bracket the outside of Ratchet’s as if Ratchet is determined to show Sunstreaker he’s not afraid.

            And Ratchet tells him.

            Tells Sunstreaker that when he had been knocked out during that last battle, a Decepticon, (probably Soundwave, the fragger) had given Sunstreaker a virus. How no one knew until Sunstreaker woke up back in Medical and started attacking everyone. Most of their heavy hitters had been injured in the battle, so Sunstreaker had run amok for several minutes. Then Sideswipe managed to do something along their bond to disorientate Sunstreaker long enough for the medical team to descend upon him with every sedative they had.

            When Sunstreaker had first awoke, Sideswipe had immediately felt that something was wrong. He traced the sensation back along their bond and found the virus. Somehow it recognized Sideswipe enough through the twins’ similarity in base coding to allow him to suppress its effects but not be affected as well.

            Once Sunstreaker was unconscious again, Ratchet plugged into Sunstreaker’s systems to investigate. They quickly learned that any tampering with the virus’ coding caused a full body shutdown, leading quickly to the extinguishment of Sunstreaker’s spark. There had apparently been quite the scramble to bring Sunstreaker back, as well as to calm a hysterical Sideswipe.

            But Ratchet had managed both. Sideswipe suppressed the virus once more, and they reversed the sedatives, waking Sunstreaker up. The plan had been to teach Sunstreaker more in-depth programming to help him isolate the virus to at least give them some time to find a more permanent solution.

            However, the kill switch was two-fold. Even rudimentary mention of the virus to him erased Sunstreaker’s memory and put him back into shutdown. In the end, their only stopgap was Sideswipe’s ability to remotely choke off the virus through their bond.

            Understandably, this had been an incredible drain on Sideswipe. It had taken nearly all of Sideswipe’s attention and focus to keep control. And he periodically lost that control when he grew overly drained. Sunstreaker rampaged several more times, and it quickly became apparent that Sideswipe wouldn’t be able to keep up the charade for long.

            Thus their slapdash ‘operation’. Sunstreaker had been lightly sedated and while keeping a grip on the virus, Sideswipe initiated and maintained a spark merge. Sunstreaker had been prepped with full frame life support as Jazz had entered Sunstreaker’s systems to hunt down and eradicate every aspect of the virus. The kill switch had immediately engaged at Jazz’s intrusion, but medical intervention kept Sunstreaker’s frame going, while Sideswipe’s spark carried the burden of Sunstreaker’s.

            Before the ‘surgery’, Sideswipe had informed the medical team that it had been getting harder and harder to block the virus. He had suspected it was adapting to his presence. They anticipated it would target Sunstreaker’s, and thus Sideswipe’s, spark directly during the operation. It had been a race to clean the virus from Sunstreaker’s body before Sideswipe’s spark gave out from the strain of both an extended merge and viral attack.  

            “It was a dicey thing,” Ratchet admits. “I thought I was going to lose you both. But Jazz cleared the virus, your merge uncoupled and your spark settled back in your frame as if nothing had happened. And Sideswipe…”

            Ratchet and Sunstreaker both look over at Sideswipe’s far too quiet body.

            “… he’s recovering. It was a lot on his spark, and he was very weak there for a while. But he’s improving every hour,” Ratchet says reassuringly. He voice sounds like it’s far away.

            “… I yelled at him,” Sunstreaker whispers brokenly in reply. His processor is working madly to make sense of everything, and Sunstreaker feels like it’s doing a poor job of it. “He gave me a sword and the light kept flickering and I just _yelled_ at him…”

            “Sunstreaker?” Ratchet asks worriedly and Sunstreaker automatically looks back at Ratchet. Sunstreaker gazes at him, begging with his optics for Ratchet to … understand… tell him it’s ok…

            Sunstreaker’s honestly not sure what he’s asking the other mech for exactly.

            “… he said we made a _sparkling_ …” Sunstreaker whimpers. It’s all suddenly too much for him and he tilts forward, falling against Ratchet’s chest. Ratchet grunts a little at the impact, but his arms come around Sunstreaker’s shoulders to hold him tightly.  

            It had been one thing to know they had managed to spark a new life yet it was killing Sideswipe. It had given Sunstreaker hope that maybe they could kindle again, but somehow get someone else to carry it to term like the humans did.

            But to know there had _never_ been a sparkling… that all this time everyone had been right in saying that twins never could kindle… somehow that made it worse. And not just for Sunstreaker. He _knew_ how much Sideswipe loved bitlits and had always wanted one. And Sideswipe had just pretended, all for Sunstreaker’s sake, while knowing it was a lie that would never come to pass.

            “Not the best cover up, I’m afraid,” Ratchet murmurs into the top of Sunstreaker’s helm. “But it helped explain a lot of the things you both were experiencing. Shh… shhhhh, Sunstreaker, it’ll be ok….”

            Sunstreaker shakes his head wildly, unable to stop the quiet keen. “He almost died… I felt it… I saw him drop… he shouldn’t have… I _hurt_ him.”

            In a way that went to Sideswipe’s very core.

            There was absolutely nothing Sunstreaker could ever do to make up for what Sideswipe had gone through.

            “You would have done the exact same thing if your positions had been reversed, Sunstreaker,” Optimus says, laying a large warm hand directly against the middle of Sunstreaker’s back.

            Would he have, though? He wasn’t as clever as Sideswipe, didn’t think as fast on his feet. Could Sunstreaker have manipulated their bond like Sideswipe had? Could he have lied to Sideswipe like that? Gotten his hopes up for a sparkling?

            Sunstreaker’s processor essentially shuts down after that, unable to cope. He remains pressed against Ratchet’s chest, trembling, for what seems like hours.

            And bless him, but Ratchet even encourages it, holding Sunstreaker close and soothingly stroking the back of his helm. Ratchet’s spark beats strong beneath his armor and Sunstreaker focuses on it, memorizing the rhythm. It’s not Sideswipe’s, but it’s reassuring all the while.

            Eventually, Sunstreaker draws back, feeling limp and drained. At some point, Optimus must leave because now it’s only the three of them. Ratchet studies Sunstreaker’s face for a long moment before reaching out and cupping Sunstreaker’s cheek.

            “You’re going to be fine,” Ratchet says determinedly. “I didn’t go through all the effort of keeping your ungrateful afts alive this long for something to happen now.”      

            “We _are_ grateful,” Sunstreaker replies, leaning into Ratchet’s hand a little. They don’t say it enough, but they do try to show it with little gifts on Ratchet’s desk or shoving a cube of energon at him when it’s obvious he’s worked three straight shifts in a row.

            Ratchet smiles gently before giving Sunstreaker’s cheek a pat. “I know. Now get on up there with your brother. I know you want to.”

            Sunstreaker nods and stands to do as he’s been told. It’s not often Ratchet or the rest of the medical staff let the twins lie together when one or the other is recovering. But there are times when it does help speed up the healing process.

            He hopes this is one of those times.

            “Is he actually induced?” Sunstreaker asks, carefully maneuvering himself beneath the wires of the spark monitor.

            “No, I didn’t see the need. He’s progressing rapidly; he’ll wake up on his own,” Ratchet replies, watching like a hawk in case any of Sideswipe’s wires are disturbed. “He just needs rest, but I think he’ll start coming out if it before too long.”

            “Mm… Ratchet?”

            “Yes, Sunstreaker?”

            “… can twins make a sparkling with a third?” Sunstreaker ventures, carefully not looking at medic. He’d never consider intentionally trying to make a sparkling during the height of the war, but maybe… after…

            “In theory,” Ratchet replies, sounding a little intrigued despite himself. “Although I haven’t heard of it actually happening. Of course, I also haven’t ever heard of a pair of twins taking on a mate either.”

            “What if it’s not a mate? What if it’s just someone they like and trust to carry?” Sunstreaker adds, finally giving in and looking at Ratchet’s face.

            The medic looks surprised.

            “Again… in theory, yes,” Ratchet says slowly. Then a strange expression washes over his face. “But you better not be thinking of me, glitchling; I’m far too old to get sparked!”

            “I never said _you_!” Sunstreaker shoots back. “It was just a question.”

Although… was there anyone else they trusted more…?

            Ratchet harrumphs like the grumpy old grouch he always plays at being. “It’s never a dull moment with you boys, I’ll tell you that. Anyway, Sideswipe’s not my only patient. I have to make my rounds. I’ll be by later to check in. Shout for me if you need anything.”

            Sunstreaker sincerely hopes the other patients haven’t been put on a medical berth by his hands. But he does his best to shunt that thought aside and focus on his twin. Sideswipe is still so motionless, but he’s warm, and his colors are as bright and vibrant as ever, not like that dull, faded red in the headspace merge.

            Sighing, Sunstreaker carefully slides an arm and leg over his brother and rests his head on Sideswipe’s chest. The spark beneath the armor pulses slowly, practically at half time Sunstreaker’s own. But it doesn’t sound weak or thready; that gives Sunstreaker hope that Ratchet is right and it’s only a matter of time before Sideswipe wakes.

 

\--

 

            Sunstreaker dozes for a while. Apparently being a puppet to a viral invader is exhausting. The emotional upheaval after the fact doesn’t help matters either.

            It takes him far too long to realize his arm is being stroked but when it finally registers, he jerks upright, supporting himself on one elbow. He stares down at Sideswipe to see his twin looking back at him sleepily.

            “Hey,” Sideswipe says in greeting. Then he frowns. “Ugh, you’re filthy. I’m surprised you can stand to be in your plating right now.”

            It’s so like Sideswipe to immediately think of Sunstreaker’s needs and wants first before anything else. Suddenly Sunstreaker loves his twin so much it physically hurts. He lowers himself back down and kisses Sideswipe deeply, memorizing the taste and feel of Sideswipe’s lips.

            Sideswipe makes a surprised noise in the back of his throat which immediately morphs into a happy moan. He kisses back, lips parting as Sunstreaker’s glossa slips inside.

            Sunstreaker loses track of time for a completely different reason and it’s only when Sideswipe’s knee rises up, bracketing Sunstreaker’s thigh that Sunstreaker remembers everything. He reluctantly draws back, smiling a little when Sideswipe tries to chase after Sunstreaker’s mouth with his optics closed.

            “We can’t.”

            “Why?” Sideswipe whines, clutching tighter at Sunstreak’s shoulders and trying to pull him back down.

            “You know how Ratchet hates it when we frag on his medical berths,” Sunstreaker replies.

            Sideswipe freezes and his optics pop open. He grimaces a little at Sunstreaker. “… oh. We’re in Medical still? Does that mean it worked? … and someone got you up to speed?”

            “Yeah.” Sunstreaker takes in a large vent of air and holds it for a moment before letting it out. He wants to yell, but he also can’t stand the thought of Sideswipe flinching away from Sunstreaker’s anger. “You almost died, Sides. You should have let them put me in stasis or something.”

            Sideswipe’s optics squint in disbelief at Sunstreaker for a moment and then a furious expression washes over his face. He swats at Sunstreaker’s shoulder. “Frag you, Sunny! I wasn’t living without you. I’m not going to apologize for anything I did. Except…

            “I did kinda control you a little,” he adds, looking ashamed. “I _am_ sorry for that.”

            “From what Ratchet told me, you let me be me, actually,” Sunstreaker replies softly. He gazes at Sideswipe’s face, glad to have seen that spark of Sideswipe’s normal fire.

            Sideswipe’s optics remain downcast, and his voice lowers to a whisper. “… and I’m sorry for telling you I was sparked when I wasn’t.”

            Sunstreaker sighs and sits up, twisting at the waist so he can both fit on the berth and look at his twin. “Yeah. That sucked to find out it was a lie. But I understand why you said it – it really did make sense. So I accept your apology.”

            Sideswipe doesn’t respond, and Sunstreaker bites his lower lip at the despondent expression still on Sideswipe’s face.

            “You know… I asked Ratchet if he thought we could make a sparkling with a third mecha; he said it should be possible,” Sunstreaker adds. Sideswipe’s head jerks up.

            “But I don’t want anyone else other than you,” Sideswipe immediately replies. It makes that overwhelming wave of love inside Sunstreaker rear up again. Kissing Sideswipe the first time had seemed to work as a way to express Sunstreaker’s emotions, so he does it again.  

            This time, it goes on long enough that Sunstreaker is desperately rocking his closed panel against Sideswipe’s when Ratchet walks into the room.

            “ _What_ have I told the two of you?!” Ratchet thunders when he sees them.

            Sunstreaker breaks their kiss and they turn their heads in unison to look at Ratchet. Sunstreaker is otherwise reluctant to move away from his twin and smiles sheepishly at Ratchet, hoping the medic understands.

            “’Don’t frag on the recovery tables,’” Sideswipe intones. “Sorry, Ratch, but have you seen Sunny? It’s like nearly impossible to keep my hands off him! Besides we have some lost time to catch up on!”

            Sunstreaker flushes with a pleased heat but starts untangling himself from all of Sideswipe’s wires when Ratchet glares at Sunstreaker and indicates for him to get off the berth. Sideswipe pouts after Sunstreaker, but knows better than to start moving without Ratchet’s say-so.

            “I think he’s better,” Sunstreaker informs Ratchet, watching the medic observe the spark monitor with a critical optic.

            “Well, he’s certainly sounding and acting like his old self,” Ratchet comments, nodding slowly.

            “Does that mean I’m fine? I can go?” Sideswipe asks, sitting upright with his hands hovering over the electrodes. He’s practically vibrating out of his plating in anticipation.

            “ _Yeah_ , you’re fine,” Sunstreaker murmurs, optics tracking down his brother’s frame. How long has it been now since they’d last interfaced?

            Sideswipe’s head whips around and he stares at Sunstreaker, mouth open a little in shock. Then he shakes himself and grabs Ratchet’s arm, tugging on it urgently.

            “Ratchet. Ratchet, Sunny’s making innuendos at me… for the love of all that’s holy, please release me! You have no idea how rare this is!”

            Sunstreaker is pretty sure Ratchet hums and haws over the monitor another minute just to mess with Sideswipe. Finally, Ratchet turns around and crosses his arms over his chest. He glares at Sideswipe.

            “I will let you go… hold up!” Ratchet barks as Sideswipe rips off the first electrode. “I want you back here same time tomorrow for another spark check. And no merging until I say so!”

            Sideswipe leans forward, staring intently at Ratchet while he speaks. When Ratchet pauses, Sideswipe hesitantly takes off another electrode as if testing him. “… and that’s it? No merging and come back tomorrow?”

            “You’re both off duty,” Ratchet says, nodding. “As far as I can tell, you’re completely back to your normal, annoyingly revved-up self. So go on, ravish each other silly. In your own quarters!”

            The rest of the electrodes are ripped off near instantaneously and then Sideswipe jumps off the berth. He grabs Sunstreaker and tugs him out the door. Sunstreaker has time to give Ratchet a small smile of thanks, and then Sideswipe is pulling him out of the medical ward and down the shortest route to their room.

            They pass a few other mechs, several of whom look alarmed at Sunstreaker’s presence. That’ll have to be addressed at some point. He’s not one for making apologies, but if someone had been truly hurt…

            But that’s for another time. Now it’s time to fling himself into Sideswipe’s arms and not leave his embrace for an entire day.

 

\--

 

            “So…” Sideswipe pants, eight hours later, “… that headspace was pretty fun, right?”

            Sunstreaker stares up at the ceiling, valve throbbing pleasantly. His whole body feels like it is rubberized instead of made of study Cybertronian alloy. Not like that will persuade him from resting more than a few minutes before their next round.

            “… yeah, I guess,” Sunstreaker replies. “Although there was that whole dying aspect that was a little disconcerting.”

            Sideswipe squirms around so he can prop his chin up on his folded arms, face inches away from Sunstreaker’s.

            “Ok, right, but if there was no threat of harm, I bet we could do a lot of fun things in there,” Sideswipe purrs. His pelvis grinds down in a little figure eight, and Sunstreaker’s valve clenches around Sideswipe’s spike.

            Sideswipe’s hot to the touch, slicked with condensation and ‘facing fluids, and has a demented gleam in his optics. Sunstreaker wonders if anyone else in the history of the universe has ever loved someone as much as Sunstreaker loves his mate right now.

            “I think I could be persuaded to experiment,” Sunstreaker replies and grins.

 

 

~ End

 

 

Warning: Sunstreaker is an unreliable narrator. Sideswipe is *not* pregnant and he never was. It's a cover story to explain the physical ailments both twins are experiencing due to the fact that Sunstreaker has been recently infected with a virus that forces him to attack other Autobots. He's experiencing blackouts and memory loss so his POV is incredibly skewed.

           

           

 

           

           

           

           

           

 


End file.
